Somewhere in that dark corner of my mind,
This dark room, filled with bits of broken hearts,
And on its wall of shame,
Pain painted by Virtuosos hang crooked on rusted nails,
Sometimes,
When my faux smiles leave me jaded,
My soul walk in, dusts them off and reminisce their sorry
tales.

I’ve seen men join the Calvary of Green Bottles,
And in their parades lose the pain, at least for a while,
But me,
I pack the pain and walk that lonely mile.

Somewhere in my mind there is a Museum of Feelings,
I save the shame, the pain,
And on those lonely days,
I go back again to my precious bane,
Dust them off and reminisce the inglorious days.

*****November 15, 2013*****
A museum of feelings
— A (@poetra_asantewa) November 15, 2013

We don't fear eternal
damnation,
we live here,
hell can't possibly be
worse.
On those cold hungry
nights
children are kept warm by
the infernos of hell
lit by angry mosquitoes
dodging slaps from
irritated mothers
who not so silently curse
absent fathers.
this land was built from
blocks of apathy,
the souls of the poor and
downtrodden holds them together
so their death is
encouraged,
to keep up appearances,
politicians pretend they
are outraged.
This is business,
The misery of the poor and needy,
funded by the rich gluttons of society,
accepted and sanctified,
“Blessed are the poor...”,
Penury processed and
packaged as humility,
Just keep them poor and
blissfully ignorant.
and yet weighed down we
find reasons to smile,
dance under the moonlight
alone
because we can't afford
true love,
Can't wait for help from
above,
The only Heaven we know
is within.
Meanwhile,
in the shadows,
a vulture waits patiently
for an emaciated child
with an ironically large belly
to …

The tall tree that refused to dance was made to do so by the wind
The sapling that just rose had to move to its whim
Time came, and time went, and both were marked without and within
The sapling was bent in the direction of the wind
The tall tree on the humic soil did wind

A thousand setting suns on my life did shine
A thousand rising suns in my heart did rise
Each sun had a tale to tell, in my quest to make life mine
My early suns were warm and sublime
My noon suns shone hot and fierce; for my early suns I did pine

A hundred suns did come and go, each left an annulus on the heartwood of my soul
Like a cathedral bell they hit my soul with their toll
Five hundred suns on my soul did smile
Five hundred sunsets on my soul did shimmer
Leaving me with memories of their glimmer

A thousand suns shone through the dim of my youth
As to find myself i did seek to prove
Clouds came to shade from the suns
Dark, bulbous clouds of fury
Venting their icy drops on a vulnerable me
B…

There is our king, the traitor,
He sold our Golden throne
For a more economical wooden stool
Now white ants gradually feed
On our nation's most prized treasure.

At the bottom of the societal money chain,
You and I,
Trampled under the feet of the king,
But I’ve got the here after well planned
With Isaac, Moses and Abraham
Where I’ll pay no tax or rent.

Back at the temple;
Tithers tithe,
Large tenths in small envelopes;
Cheerfully, Cheerful Givers give,
Abundantly, out of abundance,
Then the Preacher comes in,
Well dressed,
Well pressed,
Well blessed,
Preaching a sermon of wealth and prosperity
While you and I
Chant rousing anthems of Hallelujah
On empty stomachs;
It’s all a societal norm.

It’s time to unlock bolted minds,
Touch the heart of the children,
And tell the unpopular truth,
The king will soon fall,
It will be publicized, politicized and analyzed,
Our itching ears already twitching
And our lips bound to criticize.
Our insipid imaginations
Are soon to be flushed down the dr…

Little
Boat stay close to these shores, noble,
your lofty dreams though be, stay
away from the deep seas where big ships play, in
those shark infested waters you'll know no peace. Little
Boat now far offshore, tempest tossed, you've
proved your point, gone where none crossed, now
come be master of much quieter waters, there's
a name to be made, small world master. once
Little Boat, now debris, Is
your restless soul now free? When
hubris and lofty dreams did clash, you
were just another overreaching tin god. New
Little Boat now venturing out high, The Oracle grows weary of talking to little boats, stay
away from deep seas where dreams go to die, you
will find no peace in these treacherous seas. *****June
10, 2013*****

I can't see you
through the mist, and when I close my
eyes,
I hear not the still
breeze of your voice, just an emptiness
and sometimes, disturbing thunder, I find no peace in
them.
I still feel
remnants of yesterday's fire burning, the last dying ember
struggling to survive, and maybe we should
fan these flames of yearning, but with our mutual
disinterest... I feel my soul
peeping at you through my eyes with slight disinterest, and hear my heart
thinking, “how did we get here?” Faded glory...

What
then shall Dr. King say, When
from Heaven he looks down this day, To
see that cheque has finally been cashed, And
the dream has come alive? Look
down this day Dr. King, From
beyond those lofty clouds And
hear the great joy as we sing, For
on this day, we dream no more, But
awake to the dawning of a new era. Look
down Dr. King and smile, From
those heady heights above, For
though this day you did not meet, We
know you see us from your heavenly seat. Dear
Dr. King if I may, Should
the Lord in a question to you say, “Which
age would you like to live in?” Please
say Dr. King I pray, “Grant
me Lord a few hours, of
November 5, 2008”, for
this is the date, when
the beautiful symphony of brotherhood played. Dr.
King, Dr. King, from your stony grave awake, for
the sons of former slaves and former slave owner now
sit together at the table of brotherhood,
and
an African American now rules, he
rules in your land of a thousand races. Awake
Dr. King and join in the song, for
today we sing with a new meaning, "My
c…